Steeled With a Kiss - Redux
by RSteele82
Summary: (An ITCHy Story). An alternate ending to Steeled with a Kiss Pt 2.


_**An Itchy Story**_

_**A/N: Couldn't get this out of my head, so I decided a little treat to start the weekend. ~RSteele82**_

Remington carried Laura into the master bedroom and kicked the door shut behind them, before releasing her legs and lowering her until her toes touched the ground. Their eyes met, held, each of them recognizing the time for that much anticipated honeymoon – that moment when they crossed the line from friends to lovers – had at long last arrived… and miraculously, all their reasons for their hesitations the last four years were noticeably absent.

He was the first to move, reaching a hand out to turn off the lights, leaving the room bathed in the light from the fire burning in the hearth across the room. Lifting a fall of hair over her shoulder, he cupped her neck needing to know more of her flavor than that which still lingered on his lips from the kisses they'd shared below stairs and as he'd carried her up the marble staircase.

He kissed her tenderly, reverently, the touch of his lips conveying – she understood at last – the emotions that left him tongue-tied and anxious. She pressed closer while sliding a hand up his chest and over his shoulder, to finger the base of his neck. She felt him tremble against her at the touch and with a soft sigh, her body melted into his.

Downstairs, a telephone began to peel again. Remington's hands, at Laura's waist and neck, flexed with frustration, and his kiss faltered.

"Let it ring," she whispered against his lips. At her choosing him… them… his eyes darkened with emotion, and he tugged her closer, bending his head to again seal his lips to hers. With a hum she pressed up on her tippy toes and melded her body to his.

The shrill ring of the phone bounced off the walls of the hall, seeped into the room, seemingly growing louder with each repetition. Deny it was a distraction though she might, that she'd begun stiffening a little more in his arms with each successive ring spoke the truth. With a final touch of his lips to hers, she still wrapped in his embrace, he looked down at her with regret.

"We've waited far too long for this night to be distracted by anything but one another," he murmured, then with one, last glancing touch of his lips to hers, turned to the door.

"Mr. Steele—" she called after him, then could only follow and hope their persistent caller was Mildred or Micheline… anyone but—

"Steele, here."

"I gotta hand it to you, Steele, I didn't think that plan of yours would work, but it did," Tony greeted.

"I wonder why it is I'm already regretting that?" Remington replied, glancing at Laura as she arrived by his side. "Now, if you don't mind, Antony, Laura and I are—"

"Actually, I do. Laura and I didn't finish our talk a few minutes ago. So, if _you_ don't mind," Tony replied, smugly. Guilt washed over Laura when she saw the hurt that slashed through Remington's eyes in the split second before his face lit with an amiable smile.

"I'll leave you to your conversation." He handed her the phone and dropped a peck on her cheek to assure her all was well between them, then turned to alight the stairs. Without thinking, she took his hand in hers before he could depart.

"Don't go," she requested, firmly, "Tony and I have nothing to say to that you can't hear. We never have." Shoving a hand in his pocket, he shifted on his feet with unease, but remained where he stood. She turned her attention to the phone. "Hello?"

"Laura, we need to talk. So why don't you tell Steele to get lost so—"

"Apparently I didn't make myself clear last week, Tony," Laura cut in. "I'm where I want to be and I'm with whom I want to be."

"Laura—"

"My husband has fulfilled the agreement you had with him," she continued with a shake of her head, "And we expect you to keep your end of the agreement, as well: No more surprise appearances, no more phone calls, no more requests for help… or blackmail. Our business, as they say, is concluded."

"Laura, wait—"

"Goodbye, Tony." With resolve, she disconnected the line, then lay the receiver on the table guaranteeing any further calls that evening would be greeted by a busy tone. Taking a moment to fortify herself, she drew in a deep breath before turning to face Remington. The call had brought with it the reality that they needed to clear the air between them before they consummated this relationship. She lifted a pair of solemn brown eyes to his face. "About Tony. I'm sorry." He withdrew his hand from hers and shoved it into his pocket as well, then looked away from her, clearly distressed.

"I'm hardly in a place to fault you, given the situation," he replied, sweeping aside the apology. He'd offered her an out, but she knew things would never be the same between them if she took it. She stepped to him, laying a hand against his cheek, then waited for him to look at her.

"Nothing ever happened between Tony and I that you weren't witness to, because I didn't _want_ it to." Relief swamped him, and swallowing hard, he nodded rapidly. Recognizing he had some air of his own to clear, his tongue flicked out to moisten his lips.

"I hired Clarissa to play my bride for a few hours, no more than that," he said in turn, "I'd no idea we'd have to cohabitate to pull off the farce and I never partook of her…" he swallowed again and looked at her with embarrassment painting his face "…other services." Emboldened when she didn't explode, as she'd been prone to doing in weeks past, he stepped near and dropped his hands from his pockets. An arm snaked around her waist, and he counted it to his favor that she slipped willingly into his embrace. Palming her cheek in his hand, he made a bold admission, "You've spoiled me for other women." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and smiled down at her with teasing tenderness sparkling in his eyes. "There's no one that can keep me on my toes quite like Laura Holt." She linked her arms around his neck, giving him a jaunty smile with a lift of her brows.

"One might say the same of Remington Steele for me," was her equally brash reply. She linked her arms around his neck, while he dragged his fingers through her lustrous mane, his hand cupping the back of her neck.

"That I keep you on your toes or that I've spoiled you for other men?" he murmured the question as his head descended.

"I don't know if I should say," she whispered back, in the moment before his lips settled over hers.

She shivered beneath the touch of his lips to hers. Kissing Remington was like seeing, feeling… tasting every color of the rainbow, each color richer, more tempting than the one before it, while a cacophony of fireworks erupted beneath the surface of her skin, sending sparks into her blood stream and shocks straight to her core, leaving her aching for more. He embraced her more firmly, changing the angle of the kiss. If asked, he would be of a differing opinion. Kissing Laura was like uncorking a bottle filled with the essence of a beautiful summer day: It was dazzling, filled with sunshine that warmed his flesh and heart; It was seductive, like a soft, floral breeze wafting over him; and it was the water gently lapping at a shoreline, filling him with a sense of contentment the likes of which he'd never known before. Her kisses were like drugs to an addict: They simultaneously muddled his mind and scorched his senses, but after he'd had that first, sweet taste of her, his craving for her couldn't be ignored.

And like that addict, even now, as he was indulging himself in her flavor, it wasn't enough. He parted their lips to change the angle again, then stalled when his eyes at half-mast caught with a pair of dazed brown eyes blinking up at him. _Damn,_ what it did to him to see that particular look in her eyes, seen only on the rare occasion that she let the walls surrounding her down. He tugged her yet closer and sealed his mouth to hers, accepting the invitation when her lips parted beneath his. A tremor of desire rocketed through her making her fingers flex against his flesh and leaving her pressing body and mouth closer still. Burning need coursed through him and without warning he scooped her up in his arms, carrying towards her towards the marble staircase that would take them upwards to the master bedroom.

This time when the door of the master suite shut behind them, there was no hesitation, no quiet looks exchanged. Laura nuzzled her face in Remington's neck, trailing her lips over the sensitive flesh, as he strode confidently across the room, lowering her to the feet to the floor when they reached the bed. With an urgency neither tried to quell amid searing, searching kisses, sweaters were tugged off and tossed aside, with the rest of their clothing quickly following. Bodies pressed flesh-to-flesh they tumbled to the bed.

He surprised her, then. After almost frantically dispensing with their clothes, now he slowed things down, easing his body off her slim frame and stretching out on his side, facing her. Her brows pinched together in confusion as she rolled to face him. He traced a cheek with the backs of a pair of fingers.

"Laura, I can't quite believe this is happening," he murmured. Her brow softened and with a soft smile, she palmed his cheek in her hand.

"But it is," she whispered, leaning in and dropping a kiss against his other cheek and swinging a leg over his hips. Catching her hips in his hands, he eased her down.

Never in a thousand fantasies had he imagined she'd have him at her mercy from the get-go. Rather, he'd envisioned having to employ every skill he'd ever learned to overcome her periodic bouts of insecurity and hesitancy. Now he drowned in the sensation of her hands and mouth roaming freely over his flesh, caressing, exploring the finer nuances of his lean frame.

At first, he contented himself with merely watching the play of emotions over her face, the warm flames of desire burning in her brown eyes, drawing her back to him now-and-again to exchange supple kisses with her… until, that is, he realized if she could look and touch, so could he. He soaked in the mesmerizing sprinkles of color that extended down her chest to frame small, pale globes topped with pink peaks. He memorized the gentle curve of her narrow waist and the rounded cheeks of her bum with his hands. She gasped and trembled when his thumbs brushed over the hardened tips of her nipples and ground her hips against his when he pressed up on an elbow to draw a puckered peak into his mouth.

He grumbled his frustration when she pulled her breast from his mouth with a pop and his hands only found air.

Then groaned aloud, grabbing at the sheets when she reappeared between his legs to take his hardened shaft in hand.

She'd forgotten this part of sex - the joy of giving your partner exquisite pleasure. That he turned his body over to her so willingly for her to do him as she pleased thrilled her and each groan, each quick intake of breath that she elicited from him empowered her. She gave his intact length a pair of experimental strokes, a smile playing on her lips when his hips pushed upwards in answer. She teased and titillated, stroking his shaft, caressing his sacs, twirling her thumb over his shaft's pulsing head while he writhed and panted. But, when she leaned down and drew her tongue up the underside of his shaft, he sat up abruptly.

"Later," he half-gasped, half-growled, hauling her up his body as laughter bubbled past her lips.

He smothered the laughter with a toe-curling kiss while rolling her to her back. He longed to feel her mouth closing over him, her tongue and lips gliding over his shaft, but there were two things he wanted much, much more: To prolong this first time for as long as he could and to be buried deep within her body when he came apart in her arms. To that end, he stroked, caressed, nibbled and laved every inch of her body, bringing her to the edge of ecstasy… then switching tactics and driving her desire upwards again until she growled her frustration, thrusting her hips upwards in a blatant hint of what she wanted. Capturing her lips with his, he shifted over her, settling between her legs, and positioned himself at her entrance.

He pressed forward, felt her flesh stretch to accommodate his girth. Her fingers dug into his back and she gasped, then panted as she adjusted to him. Withdrawing, he pressed forward again. On third stroke, when he buried himself to the hilt in her welcoming body, she felt his body tremor, as he murmured…

"Laura…"

It only took a trio of long strokes, for her orgasm to wash over her. Remington clenched his jaw and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. The feel of her body contracting and quaking around his was, without a doubt, the most sensual experience of his life, leaving him battling for control and forcing his hips to continue their cadence to see her through. As the last quiver left her, he drove her upwards again and this time as her climax broke, he didn't fight his own, burying his shaft fully in her wet heat.

Afterwards, they lay on their sides, face-to-face, kissing intermittently. Well-sated, Laura's eyes grew heavy. The steady rhythm of Remington stroking her hair and back, proved too much for her. Her lashes fluttered downwards, and the hand that had been gliding up and down his arm stilled. Reaching up, he took her hand in his, brushing his lips across her knuckles then laying their joined hands between them before leaning forward and bussing her on the forehead.

As he watched her sleep, he realized that at thirty-four years of age he finally understood the difference between having sex and making love. Making love with her had been, hands down, the most intimate experience of his life and when their bodies had at last merged, for the first time in his life he'd felt truly complete. She completed him. She brought a peace to his soul he once thought he'd never know.

His last thought before his dreams swept him away was that he didn't want to fall asleep another night without her beside him. He hoped fervently that she wished the same thing, too.

* * *

Beams of moonlight pored through the slats of the shuttered windows in the master bedroom, giving the room an ethereal feel. The fire had long before dwindled to little more than a flickering flame causing the room to take on distinct chill. Despite being burrowed beneath a heavy blanket and bedspread and Remington's warm body spooned around her backside, a nippy nose had drawn Laura from her dreams. Quietly slipping out of bed, she plucked his discarded turtleneck from off the floor and tugged it over her head. She alternately rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and briskly rubbed her arms, trying to warm them as she walked to the fireplace.

Stooping down in front of the hearth, she stoked the meager flame then added a log. She watched as the flame lapped at it, then decided to wait to add a second log until the first caught, lest she smother the fire altogether. With a glance towards the bed where Remington still slept, she found herself drawn to the slivers of light spilling into the room. She opened the window nearest to the fireplace, swung open the shutters, then reclosed the window before hefting herself up to sit in the alcove created by the deep frame of the window. Pulling up her knees, she tucked them into his shirt and wrapped her arms around them. With her head leaning against the cool, glass pane, she admired the scene outside the window.

The full, bright moon cast its rays downwards, throwing a soft light over the grounds of Ashford Castle and thousands of stars twinkled in the clear sky. She could see the lake from their master suite, the waters reflecting the light from the moon and stars above, while the tall, shadowed trees stood as sentries. Ireland was, without a doubt, a beautiful country and so very different – in every way imaginable – to Los Angeles with its verdant fields stretching as far as the eye could see, its smog free skies, its crystal clear lakes and streams and rolling hills. She shivered where she sat, pulling her legs tighter to herself, trying to generate some warmth. This – This chill, the dampness, Ireland could have.

But, chill in the air aside, Ashford Castle had certainly been the 'worthy setting' Remington had insisted upon. A castle in Ireland. His castle. In the country of his birth. She leaned her head against the window again, staring out at the night. While she wished they could find a way for him to keep his inheritance, the outstanding debts against the castle – running into the hundreds of thousands – made it an impossibility. She hoped, at least, the bad memories here – Tony's presence and Daniel's death – could be outweighed by the good ones. They, on a personal level, had started the process of healing here, had become lovers here.

She turned her head, startled when a hand unexpectedly touched her shoulder. Lost in her thoughts, she hadn't heard Remington rouse, but he stood beside her now wearing his pants from earlier – zipped but unbuttoned – holding a blanket over his arm. With a smile, she moved forward on the window's seat, allowing him room behind her when he slanted his eyes in suggestion. Once he was comfortably seated, he drew her back to lean against him and wrapped them in the blanket. Dipping his head down, he peered out the window at the night sky wondering what had caught her attention.

"'You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down,'" he murmured next to her ear, then leaned in to nuzzle her neck. With a smile, and a touch of her fingertips to his cheek, she leaned more heavily against him.

"_It's a Wonderful Life,"_ she noted, in a quiet voice. He hummed his confirmation. "I don't want the moon, but I do need you to answer a question for me." She took care to speak softly, making certain there was no trace of animosity in her tone when she spoke again. "When you knew you were in trouble, why didn't you come to me?"

He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He'd never doubted the question would come in time, simply hadn't expected that time to be on the eve of the most meaningful sexual experience of his life… One he'd hoped had meant as much to her. What he wanted to do was carry her back to their bed and to make love to her until they were too exhausted to go on. But avoiding the hard questions is what had brought them nearly to ruin. He wouldn't risk that again.

"The answer to that may not be as simple as you believe it to be," he replied, hesitantly, but honestly.

"You didn't trust me," she assumed, sounding every bit a woman defeated. His eyes popped open and he was shaking his head before he could even gather his thoughts.

"I trust you more than I have anyone in my life," he denied, with soft finality. "You _know_ that," he insisted, hugging her to him.

"But not completely," she assessed with an accuracy that left him wincing unseen.

"Not the way you mean," he corrected. "You're not the only one who is unsure where they stand, Laura… and you're not the only one that has worried you'd wake 'the morning after' and find yourself alone." Her eyes widened, shocked by the admission.

"You've worried about that?" she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise.

"Can you say my concern is unwarranted? Hmmm?" he challenged, softly. "We're not all that different, you and I. On the streets of Brixton, they have a name for our kind: Runner. Our first instinct when we feel threatened is to put as much distance as possible between ourselves and the source of that threat. For me, that distance happens to be an ocean." Her brows pinched together. She loathed the idea of the descriptor 'runner' being hung around her neck, but he'd aroused her curiosity.

"And for myself?"

"The Agency and that bloody impregnable wall you've built around yourself are as effective as any ocean I've ever known," he said with some bitterness threading his words. She parted her lips to deny the charge and found she couldn't push the lie past her lips. Not here, not now when she was demanding honesty from him.

"I've put you before the Agency any number of times, and you didn't think I'd do so again?" she asked instead. He swallowed hard, the injury in her voice making his heart clench. Nervously, he wet his lips with the tip of his tongue.

"My first thought was to go to you, but then…" Leaning his head back against the wall, he shook it regretfully. "Laura, I've made more mistakes in the time we've been together than I care to remember, and you've come to my rescue again-and-again. But this? I'd be asking you to defraud the U.S. Government, thereby placing everything that matters most to you on the line. I couldn't help but wonder…" With another shake of his head, he fell into a troubled silence. Beneath the blanket, she stroked his arm, soothingly while offering him a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"Wonder what?" she finally asked in a soft voice. Behind her, he blinked his eyes and gave himself a mental shake, leaving the days of when the INS had arrived behind and rejoining the present.

"On the beach after our…" he wet his lips anxiously and swayed his head "…blowup… at the spa. You said to me…"

* * *

"_**Were you really better off before you met me?"**_

"**No. Life was easier, though."**

* * *

"I couldn't help but wonder if you'd decide this was one… complication… too many and send me on my way," he shared with no little ease, then found his mind lost in the past again. "I couldn't risk it," he said, speaking so low she had to strain to hear him, despite his close proximity. "I'm so bloody in love with you that the idea of not having you, not seeing you every day... I couldn't do it… not again." She drew in a quick, silent breath, while he blew out a long, pained one. Had he even realized what he'd said? She didn't think so. "I was scared, Laura," he continued, with deep regret. "I can't tell you how sorry I am… or how relieved I am that you saved me from myself, yet again."

And with those words, her anger over his betrayal evaporated and a new understanding of the man holding her dawned. He'd been correct when he'd said they weren't all that different: They'd both paid too high a price for loving people who hadn't loved them in return and they'd learned to guard their hearts lest it happen again… and in the process, had hurt each other in the name of protecting themselves.

Would it always be that way between them? The thought that it might sent a chill down her spine and sprinkled goosebumps over her skin. Then on the heels of that thought came another: It didn't have to be - not if they guarded each other's hearts as fiercely as they did their own. Were they capable of doing that? She mulled the question and came to the conclusion that yes, they were. Their first instinct, after all, had always been to keep each other safe.

Remington tensed when Laura finally stirred. She'd reached a verdict – something that had often not gone his way in the past.

"The Agency means a great deal to me," she acknowledged softly, as she leaned her head back against his shoulder to look up at him. His heart stumbled at her next words. "But you mean more. I love you…"

She'd given to him all she'd held back these last years. She'd put him before the Agency. She'd given him her body… then her heart. Now, there was only one thing that remained…

"Remington."

In for a penny, in for a pound, as the saying goes.

A smile that rivaled the moonbeams streaking the room lit her face. She'd managed what was normally impossible: She'd rendered Remington Steele speechless. Easing herself from his embrace, she stood with fluid grace and held out a hand to him.

"I believe we're supposed to be on our honeymoon, _Mr._ Steele?"

The saucy tone of her voice and the jaunty lift of her brows inserted precisely the light note he needed to recover from his short daze. With a crooked grin, he took her hand and stood, abandoning the blanket to the window sill.

"That we are… _Mrs._ Steele." A thought occurred to him. "Uh, Laura?" His feet stilled and she looked over her shoulder with curiosity as her feet came to a stop as well. "What comes next?" he asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a cheeky grin.

She turned around to face him. Tapping a finger to her lip, and looking skyward feigning consideration of the question on the table, she went willingly when he slid his arms around her waist and drew her to him.

"You know… I don't know," she answered, playfully, dropping her eyes to look at him while linking her arms around his neck. "But whatever it is, I'm game." She lifted a pair of saucy brows at him again and widened her eyes as she eased closer to him. "I am, after all, a woman who enjoys a good challenge."

He was still laughing when his lips covered hers, sealing their future with a kiss.


End file.
